Another Reason
by Foxface9
Summary: What if there was another reason that Root kidnapped Finch... like maybe the idea to have the perfect child, whether he liked it or not? Rated for: rape, language, m/m, WARNING: Finch/Reese
1. Chapter 1

John burst through the door of the house, a dead man lay at his feet and he was thankful it wasn't Finch.

"No! Please not again!" Finch's yell came from the basement. "Please! Haven't you done this enough?"

Reese opened the door to the basement carefully and quietly going down the stairs as Carter searched the upstairs.

"Harold!" Root's voice came from around the corner of the staircase. "Do you know how many times a man and woman can have sex before the woman conceives?"

Reese felt his breath hitch as he stopped. What did she just say?

"You just killed a man in front of me, once a good friend of mine! Do you not have ANY decency?!" Harold yelled.

"Oh Harold, this baby will be brilliant! She'll have everything necessary to survive in this new world that is far too advanced for the others who are unlike us. Our baby will be a gift to humanity! Now, you just relax while I get you ready, okay?" Root said before a soft squeal came from Finch and Reese jumped out from behind a wall, gun in hand.

"Let him go Samantha," Reese said, noticing the surprise on her face when he said her real name.

She turned to him, a rag with a damp mark in the center of it. Judging by Finch's unconscious body, John guessed that chloroform was the cause. Finch himself was wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, replacing his normal suit.

"You really think it'll be that easy?" she said, dropping the rag and pulling a gun out of seemingly nowhere.

"I guessed not," John said, charging forward swiftly and grabbing the gun.

The strength and height advantage Reese had made it easy for him to throw the gun to the side and wrestle Root to the ground. Ropes nearby, that weren't tied to Finch's arms and legs, were used skillfully by Reese to tie her to a beam in the basement. Reese turned his head toward where Finch was tied to another beam, hands behind it. He made quick work to untie the ropes and gathered Finch up and into his arms, careful of his head and the cold floor. Finch was easy to carry up the steps and Carter was more than surprised to see Reese carrying the smaller man unconscious.

"Is he-"

"No," Reese wouldn't even let Carter finish that horrible thought. "I'll, contact the police. Root is in the basement, so you better-"

"You get going. Get him back to New York, I'll make sure Root gets what she deserves," Carter said, pulling out her cell phone before John could get in another word.

He simply nodded and carefully took Finch through the door. Reese carefully laid him down in the back, careful of the shorter man's head, before getting in himself and speeding away.

"M-Mr. Reese?" Finch's dazed voice came from the back seat.

"Hello Harold, Miss me?" John joked lightly. What he had walked in on, none of the imagined horrors compared to this.

Finch hadn't responded as he fell asleep. Reese couldn't blame him, from what he heard, this hadn't been the first time Root had done… that.

* * *

Reese drove a long while, until they were a while away from the house and in need of gas. They stopped at a gas station somewhere in Missouri. The stopping of the car caused Finch to wake up in the back seat violently.

"What? Where are we going now…" he asked with a thick sadness in his voice.

"Finch, it's me," Reese said turning to him.

Finch looked at him, and for the first time Reese could see that one of the lenses were cracked and he felt sick just thinking of how that happened. "Mr. Reese… How did you find me?"

"A little help from the machine," he answered, moving his hand to take Finch's glasses off only for him to flinch his head back at the closeness of his hand. "It's okay Finch, you're okay now."

Finch took off the broken glasses himself, setting them on the console and then pulling his arm to himself again to go back to sleep.

"We're at a gas station you know, so do you need anything?"

"No, I- I'm fine… I just need to sleep."

"Okay," John said, reluctantly getting out of the car.

He went inside, ignoring Finch's lack of request and grabbing a sandwich for the man and paying for the fill up before going outside to actually gas up the vehicle. A man was filling up in the station next to the car Finch was lying in. Reese felt uncomfortable with the man, ever so often, looking into the back window with a devious smile on his face.

"Looking at something?" John said, scaring the man into abruptly looking away. Yet still, he quickly gassed up the car quickly and drove off. He looked to the back where Finch was laying down. His mouth was in a frown, and his eyes were painted with a deep sadness. "Hey," John said digging in the bag, "I got you a sandwich."

He held out the deli filled bread, only for Finch to roll over with a murmur of, "I'm not that hungry…"

* * *

Reese drove straight back to New York from then on, they almost ran out of gas and it took thirty hours total, but they were back at the library. Back home. Finch had fallen asleep again and it was now two in the morning so Reese wasn't going to wake him. He simply gathered him in his arms and carried him into the building and up the stairs. When Reese got inside, there was nowhere to set down the smaller, broken, man. So he carefully laid him on the floor, leaving for a small moment to look for a blanket or two. He eventually found a few, and used a sweater to make a makeshift pillow. Reese carefully adjusted Finch's body so that it appeared to be in a more comfortable position so that the man didn't wake up. Finch shifted awake a few minutes later, squinting up at Reese when he did.

"Where are we?" Finch grumbled out.

"Home."

Finch shivered under the blanket violently.

"It's okay Finch, you're safe now. I promise."

Finch's shivering didn't stop, but it became less violent. Without his glasses, in this light, it didn't look like Finch. It didn't look like Finch was the one balled up on the floor of the library, broken. Reese wasn't much for comfort, but even he wanted to give the man a hug.

"Look, you just get some more rest. I'll check back in-"

"No!" Finch said rather suddenly. "P-please… stay here, just for the night."

"Don't worry," Reese said. "I'll stay here until you feel safe."

"Thank you," Finch said as he began to sit up, Reese worrying all the while. "I'm not really in pain Mr. Reese."

He wasn't convincing though as he rubbed his stretched out leg, wincing. Only, it was the opposite leg than he normally limped on. A closer inspection of Finch's arms showed bruises from fingers and rope burns.

Reese guessed that he had been looking too long when he heard Finch say, "They feel a lot better than they look."

A sudden loud bark erupted from the corner of the room, causing Finch to hop into Reese's arms.

"It's okay Finch," he soothed, "That's just Bear, I asked Fosko to drop him off on the corner. He's a smart dog, I knew he could find his way home if I left the door open. Speaking of, I should go close the door." Reese made a move to leave, only to feel Finch's fingers tighten around his arm. He turned to see Finch's desperate and fearful eyes again. "I'll only be a minute and besides, I think the police can take care of Root now."

Finch didn't look convinced, but reluctantly let go. Reese knew that he needed to work fast to avoid worry as he made his way down the stairs, closing the door when he reached it. He put one foot on the first step as he heard his phone ringing from his pocket. No, it was Finch's phone in his pocket that was ringing.

"Hello?"

"Oh! You're not Harold!" a woman's voice came over the line.

"Is this-?"

"Yes, yes it is! Hope Harold is thinking about me! After what we-"

"What YOU did to Harold is horrible. And I hope the police are on your tail you bitch!"

"Ha!" Root cackled. "I lost those clowns before they even sent the first squad car! And, I have a little message for Harold. Whatever partner he had before, couldn't hold a candle to me. I knew he was the right man when I heard what he had done. But this baby, his baby, won't be like you other apes. She'll be smart, like her father… and deadly, like her mother. Don't you worry; I won't be risking this baby's life to track you two down. You can sit tight for nine months. Until then, John…"

Reese wanted to pitch the phone at the wall when he heard the dial tone, but he kept his calm. For Finch's sake. And he headed up the steps once again.

* * *

The night had been quiet all night. Reese had fallen asleep next to Finch on the floor, having gotten his first rest in nearly two days.

"HELP!" Harold suddenly yelled in his sleep. "Somebody! Anybody! Help me!"

Reese first turned on the light before returning to Finch on the floor, trying to shake him awake.

"Finch! FINCH!" he yelled, shaking him until he woke up in tears. "Oh Harold…" Reese scooped up the smaller man into his lap and arms. "It's okay Harold. Just calm down, you're safe."

Finch's cries ended, and soft whimpers came as he woke up entirely from his nightmare. Reese rocked him as if he were a small child. He didn't stop rocking him until his breathing slowed and the whimpers stopped.

"Th-thank you… Mr. Reese. I-I am sorry for my outburst, I don't know-"

"Don't you dare do that," Reese cut him off and held Finch so that he could look him in the eye. "Don't you dare act like this is something you could have controlled! This is understandable after what you have been through. I understand, okay? No one is angry at you Harold. No one blames you."

"I blame myself…"

"Well don't. Because you don't deserve that. You deserve better than this. And I swear, if I could have come sooner. I would have never let her touch you," Reese said, pulling Harold into a tight hug.

They remained there for a while, pulling each other closer until it wasn't possible to do so.

"You know what Mr. Reese; I've had my share of rest. You go on and take your share. I'm going to see if we have any other numbers," Finch said, trying to pull away but Reese wasn't letting him.

"Finch, you can stay here and sleep or go read a normal book. But, I will not allow you to work in this state," Reese answered for his actions.

"Well, if those are my choices, can I get the lights before I go back to sleep?" Finch joked.

John chuckled and released Finch from his grasp so that he could get to the light switch. When Finch returned, he worked his way under the blanket next to Reese so that they were in another tight hug. Needless to say, Harold did not have another nightmare that night.


	2. Chapter 2

John woke up to warmth on his chest and a dull feeling in his arm. He looked down to Finch curled into his chest like a cat. He could even swear the man was purring. He expertly detached himself from the smaller man and looked around the library. It was a mess. In the time he had been dropping by, Reese remembered the area being so much neater. But now, after working in it almost every day to find Finch, foam cups littered the desks, books the floor, and Bear's tennis balls were just everywhere. (One had even worked its way between the ceiling and one of the stability beams.)So, he set to work. Throwing away coffee cups, trying to remember where the books went on the shelves, and even having to find a step latter to get down the tennis ball and a box to gather them all up (much to the disappointment of Bear). The place looked, better. But something was still off. Then, he saw it. The manila folder that held all of the information he managed to gather on Root. Every bit of it, the only thing John had kept in order. He quickly grabbed it and made a move to leave, when he noticed that a certain body was missing from the floor.

"Mr. Reese," Finch said coming out of seemingly nowhere. His hair was combed, a suit and black shoes replaced the clothes he was wearing last night, and a new pair of glasses was on his face. If it wasn't for the left over pain and sadness in his eyes, John would say he was back to normal. "Where are you off to?"

"Well, I was going to get coffee, and maybe some breakfast," he answered, skillfully covering up his lie with a calm face and dropping the folder into a nearby trash can.

"Oh, well, alright then," he said before turning to Bear who was lying down in the corn of the room on his bed. "What should I do with him?"

"Well he likes tennis balls, there's a box on top of the filing cabinet full of them. Or maybe you could take him for a walk, if it wouldn't hurt your leg too mu-"

"Mr. Reese, I assure you that I will not be bonding with it anytime soon."

"Still, you could try to become friends. And think, if anyone tries to mess with you while I'm gone, he'll eat em'!"

"Well that sounds… horrifying. But I will ask that you take him home with you when the time comes."

"Sorry, my apartment has a no pet policy. So…"

"Fine, he can stay. But he better not eat anything he isn't supposed to."

Reese smiled at that, remembering the three books he threw out that were ripped to pieces and covered in slobber. He made his way outside, making a mental note to take out the trash before the books or the folder was discovered. Reese managed to find a food truck that clean enough to provide decent coffee and food. John was on his way back when a public phone began to ring. He looked around before setting the bags of food and coffee on top of the machine and picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

"W."

Reese was shocked to hear the letter. The machine was calling him again.

"E. SPACE. D. I. D. SPACE. I. T. EXCLAMATION MARK."

"You're right, we did do it. We got him home safe. And it sounds like you're learning, aren't you?"

"Y."

"Well, thank you. And, I don't know how to repay you."

A ring came from John's pocket, signaling the arrival of a text message.

'Take care of him.' it said.

"I will, and thank you again," Reese said, before both he and the machine hang up.

* * *

Finch looked around the library building. Three books were missing, he could tell because he had left three on the floor in the corner. The same corner that Bear was in. He assumed that the dog had devoured the books and John had discarded the evidence. Finch only smiled though, Bear wouldn't stop following him around. Constantly wagging his tail, the large dog simply followed him as he scanned the shelves.

"I know what you did," Finch said, turning to the dog. The dog sat, whining and folding its ears back. "It's alright, just don't eat my books again." At that, the dog jumped up and ran over to Finch, licking the bandages on his hand. Finch had almost forgotten about those. His hand was fine, no pain came from it. But it did bring back the horrible memories of the past week, causing him to sit down at a desk with a sad sigh as the nightmare from the night before flooded into his head.

_Finch was tied to a beam in the basement as she usually kept him when she was out. He felt sick, dirty… like a piece of trash. It felt like he meant nothing to anyone. That he was just a toy for enjoyment, used by this twisted woman. Finch wanted to take a shower, forever. He now sat in the pair of sweatpants Root gave him the first time, only the sweatpants. Footsteps came down the stairs, signaling her arrival._

_"Hello Harold, did you miss me while I was out? I know I missed you!" Root said in her terrifying yet cheerful voice._

_"No, please, don't!" Finch begged._

_"Sorry Harry, but you know the drill!" Root said, putting her index and middle finger into the hem of the sweatpants._

_"HELP! Somebody! Anybody! Help me!"_

_"Come now Harold! Let's get real. No one is coming to save you! No one."_

And that was when he had awoken. When he saw John's face. When he felt safer. He couldn't say that he felt safe, not with Root still out there. She hadn't been caught yet. Finch wasn't stupid. He knew she was out there, somewhere. And he also knew that she was pregnant. Pregnant with his child. With how many times she'd… there wasn't a possibility that she wasn't. And before the first time, Root had talked about how she'd gotten her fertility tested. It had been sickening. But, he did not wish anything bad on the future child… for its sake. He knew that it wasn't safe, the baby. With a mother like Root, growing up with that would be a truly terrible life. Finch would have to save it. He would have to try his best to save the child, his child, from Root. No matter what the cost. When he came back to reality, Bear rested his head upon Finch's upper thigh. It was uncomfortable at the least. That area was so sensitive now. He pushed the dog's head off, standing up just as Reese came in.

"I'm back," he said.

"Hello Mr. Reese," he greeted trying to cover up the troubling feeling from before with a smile.

Reese handed Finch his share of the breakfast with a smile. It was about eleven, and Finch had refused anything to eat the drive here. Finch was starving. They both sat down at a table, Finch ignoring the coffee Reese put in front of him and diving a plastic fork straight into the eggs. They both finished eating without much conversation. It wasn't until Finch threw out the trash from the meal that Reese said what he knew was coming.

"Look if you ever need to talk, I'm here okay."

"I'm fine Mr. Reese. I just needed to get back to-"

"Finch I saw it, I heard what she said."

Finch's breath hitched as Reese said that.

"I know what she did to you. And, I've seen so many people come out of situations like this saying they're fine and a few days later… they off themselves," Reese said, standing up. "They do it because they can't live with what they've done, because they feel like garbage. When, in reality, it's not their fault."

"Mr. Reese, I only have one thing I'm truly worried about from all this…"

"And what's that?"

"The baby. She is pregnant, with how many times Root…." He gulped, loosening his tie. "It's impossible for her not to be. And I don't wish anything bad upon her, for the baby. And that is why we have to make sure, when it is born, that it is safe and away from Root."

"Okay, well. We can figure something out. But Finch… make sure you don't forget yourself, okay?"

"Oh I assure you Mr. Reese, I don't think I'll be able to forget anything. But for now, I think it would be best to try and get back to normal."

"Finch you have to talk about this with someone."

"I assure you that I am fine."

"Alright, but can we make a compromise?"

"What are you proposing Mr. Reese?"

"That, I'll work for you. I won't say a word about Root or what she did to you, unless you want to talk about it."

"And what do you get out of this?"

"That, everyday, you set aside one hour. Just one. To talk to me about it. Okay?"

"Starting tomorrow?"

"Does that mean you're on board with the idea?"

"Hmm…" Finch thought about this. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Reese. It was too… personal. But, this deal left a solid twenty three hours a day to forget it all. Besides, he needed Reese to focus on the numbers, not nagging him about needing to talk all hours of the day. "Fine, I agree."

"Great, by the way, if we're starting tomorrow then you don't get to look for numbers today."

"Well, if that's the case, I say we get our hour in today. Four o'clock?"

"Alright, I'll take out the trash while you see if we have any numbers."

"You don't need to take out the trash Mr. Reese. I already know about the books. It's alright, I'm not kicking Bear out yet."

"Well, that's good to hear, but considering we have one waste basket in this entire place I'd feel better if it was empty most of the time."

"Suit yourself."

And with that, John was out with the small, full, trash bag in hand. Giving time for Finch to think about what he would say come four o'clock.

* * *

The number seemed simple enough. A man by the name of Jordon Herrera. Age thirty two. He worked as a lawyer with a wife and two kids. Being who he was, it wasn't hard to tell that he may just have some enemies. Reese was able to keep an eye on him pretty well, ever so often zoning out to think of Finch. The poor man had been through so much, and John desperately waited for four o'clock to come so that he could finally get some things off his chest. Reese had been in his shoes, the only thing worse about it was that he did it out of free will. Being a CIA agent had come with certain missions. Missions where it was necessary to seduce people into giving him information. Most times women, and they all usually ended in sex. John wasn't fazed by many things as an agent. Death, torture, fear… he could handle them all… except for the dirty feeling of doing what he did to all of those men and women, with those men and women. He felt like trash. But, the CIA provided councilors for him. And even though most of them just sat there and listened, he felt better. He felt better because these people could tell what he was feeling on the inside and help him through it. He looked at the clock on the dashboard of the car. It read '3:58'.

"Oh Finch," he said into the ear piece.

"Yes Mr. Reese?" Finch's voice came over the speaker.

"We can start now if you like to get this out of the way."

"Well, I suppose that would be alright…"

The line went silent for a minute.

"You do realize that I'm not counting your dead silence as part of the hour, right?"

"Mr. Reese, I promise to you that I will give you an hour of my time today. But can it wait until you come back? It doesn't feel… right this way."

"Okay Finch, we can wait until I get back. But I expect a FULL hour."

"Don't worry Mr. Reese, I will not let you down. Speaking of letting you down, I have found a prime suspect for you to look into. His name is Charles Mcguphin. Brother of Ronald Mcguphin, who was denied parole by Mr. Herrera two weeks ago."

"Alright Finch, I'll look into it."


	3. Chapter 3

The number was coming along greatly. Ronald wasn't anywhere in sight though, so Jordon and his family were safe, for now. Reese knew he needed to get back to the library if he was going to get a chance to talk to Finch at all. So, he used a last resort.

"Hello?" Carter's voice came over the speaker of the phone.

"Carter, nice to see you're back at the station."

"How did you get my- you know what forget it. I've been trying to call you for the past day. How's the little guy holding up?"

"Not too good."

"I could guess, that bitch knocked me out before she left. They thought I was a victim, so they questioned me… they asked me if I was sexually assaulted. Said they found traces of, you know, in the basement. I heard two cops saying it looked like a man was tied up down there. Was it him?"

Reese was shocked at how much the police had pieced together.

"Sadly, yes."

"I'm so sorry, is there anything I can do?"

"Yes actually, I need to talk with him, can you watch a family for me while I'm gone?"

"Give me the address, I'll be over there in a heartbeat."

Carter was there, and watching the house. Now, the dashboard clock read '8:06' as he pulled up to the library building. He made his way quickly to the main room and saw an empty room. The many screens were gone. The computers, gone. Even Bear was gone. The only things left were the books, tables, chairs… and a handwritten note on the main desk which Reese all but tackled.

_Dear Mr. Reese,_

_I can understand if you are upset at my absence. But do not fret, I am fine. I have taken Bear with me for protection, which I apologize for. I also apologize immensely for my departure. I just, can't talk about this. It's far too personal. As I made the deal with you, I imagined the hours I could forget. That isn't the treatment I need. I've put many blocks and have given many orders to and on the machine. It will not be helping you this time. Also, as far as the numbers go, I am in no longer need of your assistance. Not to make you feel inferior, but there was a list of men and women who I could higher to help with the numbers. None of them will be able to do the job as you did, but one of them will have to do until I can bring myself to return. You will never find me, so do not bother looking. I have transferred a final paycheck into your bank account. It is under a different name, just as many after it will be until you can get back on your feet entirely from your recent unemployment. Do take care Mr. Reese. And remember, the machine is watching you._

_Sincerely, Harold Finch_

John was going to flip. This was unbelievable. Of all the things! Eventually, anger gripped him, causing him to fling one of the abandoned tables across the room and into the book cases. Reese stormed out, pissed at the world. He wanted to call Finch's name through the streets like a six year old girl who lost her cat named Muffin. Finch had to be found. The man had just gotten back to New York for crying out loud! Now, he was roaming off into danger. Whoever he was planning on hiring was a stranger. And Reese could never trust them. Not after this.

* * *

Finch walked the small house. He was in some town on the outskirts of New York. Bear was sitting unhappily in the corner of a room.

"I know you miss the library, and we're barely acquainted as it is. But I need you to cheer up," Finch said, sitting on a grey sofa.

Bear walked over, nudging his hand with his muzzle again. Finch guessed that the dog could be sad about two things. He could miss John, which was completely understandable. Though, there could be the other possibility that he missed the library. Another completely understandable conclusion to the dog's behavior. Though, the second one made Finch feel better. Like he wasn't running away from the man, who was simply trying to help him. But he couldn't shake that feeling that he was done with seeing Reese. Sure, he knew the man would continue to search for him. But, after all the games he had played with the machine, he knew one or two things about getting off the grid. There was no way John was going to find him. Now, to look into the list of possible employees.

He hadn't lied in the note, he had a long list, though their skills didn't compare to the skills Reese had. They wouldn't be as good, as invisible. But with the police looking for John, maybe whoever he hired would work out. At the top of the list, was a Henry Novak. Reports said that he could move quickly, rarely detected. Though, his report also said that he could be squeamish on occasion. Though he did know a friend of Henry, his cousin, Deanna Milton. Maybe she could relay a message without Miranda finding out. Miranda was another cousin of the two. They all worked together at one point. A secret organization that's name had been too elusive for even the machine's efforts. Henry had been more of the brains, Deanna the leader. Though, both of them were a bit iffy on the idea of shooting a human being. That was what Miranda brought. They had all grown up together, but Miranda's parents had been threatened at a young age. She had been twelve when a man broke into their home. Miranda was sick, stayed home. She shot the man with her uncle's gun he had left at the house after the intruder had thrown her mother to the floor. Needless to say, Miranda had a colder heart and wouldn't hesitate to shoot if she needed to. Though, she was a loose cannon who would often throw herself into dangerous situations without much thought. Not quite what Finch needed right now. So, hopefully, Deanna could relay the message to Henry without Miranda catching on.

"It appears that I have a complicated road to through," Finch said aloud.

Bear whined, laying down and placing his paws over his head.

"I know," Finch said, standing up with a pain in his legs. Limping over to the kitchen and pulling out his cell phone.

_"Hello?"_ a female voice came over the speaker.

"Hello Deanna," Finch said.

_"Harold! Why are you calling? Finally cashing in on that favor I owe you?"_

"Indeed. Your cousin Henry. I would like to offer him a job."

_"Look, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, what happened to that last guy you had working for you?"_

"He was getting a bit too personal after some things happened."

_"I see, well Henry's not in quite the right place for this. Sam, his dad, is in the hospital. I could get a few jobs done for you though, until he's alright."_

"Deanna, you have two children."

_"Yea well, I know you don't want Miranda on this. But, she has gotten better."_

"What do you mean by better?"

_"Well, she stayed in the organization when we left. She left a few years back, but when she was still there, she had to work alone."_

"So, she's a bit less reckless now?"

_"A bit."_

Silence rang through the line as Finch pondered it needed someone that could handle this line of work.

"Alright, feel free to ask her. But I cannot say that she has the job just yet."

_"Got it, goodbye Harold!"_

"Goodbye to you too Deanna. And goodnight," Finch finished, hanging up. It was going to be a long day tomorrow.


End file.
